Sweet Savage Eden

by Heather Graham

  “Shall we go down?” Elizabeth suggested.

  “Oh, yes!”

  Kathryn straightened her skirts one last time, and then Elizabeth and Jassy started for the sweeping stairway. Jassy had never felt so marvelously alive and excited, her senses attuned to everything around her. She felt the rich material of her gown against her skin, and the very air as it touched her. Her blood seemed to dance within her, and her breath came short and quick.

  “Oh, they’ve come!” Elizabeth whispered excitedly behind her. “Jamie and Robert are here, and Lenore has already gone down, and Jane and Henry are there too. You must let me go first, and then you follow and make a wonderfully grand entrance!”

  Elizabeth gave Jassy no chance to protest; she raced down the stairway, greeting their guests effusively. Jassy hesitated and felt the fierce beat of her heart as she started down the stairway.

  She could hear the sound of voices coming from the landing, and then they all ceased. She watched as all eyes rose to her. Her brother Henry’s were startled then guarded and thoughtful. Elizabeth’s were sparkling. Jane’s were intrigued. Lenore’s were hard and wary. Robert Maxwell’s were filled with pleasure and wicked admiration. Those were the eyes that mattered. The eyes that she sought to please, and she met them gladly. But even as she smiled in return, she felt a curious draw, and she met the piercing gaze of Jamie Cameron.

  He betrayed no pleasure and no surprise. Indeed, it was as if he expected her to appear no less finely attired and groomed. His dark gaze was as fathomless as ever, and he stood as still as a rock himself, striking in a white laced shirt and dark navy jerkin and trousers, white hose and buckled shoes. She thought then, though, that it would not have mattered what he wore. He had been born the aristocrat, and it was apparent in the very way he stood, in his unyielding and ever-present confidence in himself. It was in the way that he held his head, in the way he observed all things with insolence. It was in the mocking curve of his lip, and in the nonchalant way he crossed his arms over his broad chest. In rags he would appear the proud lord, the master of his world, and so his elegant attire mattered little.

  She could not draw her eyes from his, and she felt her flesh grow warm. The way he looked at her was unnerving. He stripped her naked with his eyes, and easily he could, for he knew what lay beneath her clothing. She was certain that he was condemning her, laughing at her attempts to join society.

  Robert Maxwell was not laughing. He did not scorn her. All the bright and wonderful admiration he felt was apparent in his eyes. He stepped forward as she reached the landing, caught her hand, and laughed. “Why, this blossom we plucked and planted here is no weed but a radiant flower for certain! Jassy, you are beautiful beyond belief. Henry, you have proven yourself a great benefactor.”

  “Yes, she has come along quite well,” Henry said impatiently. “We are all here now. Shall we hurry along to the dining room? I admit to being famished.”

  There were murmurs of assent all about. Lenore, as beautiful as a snow queen in white brocade and fox fur, stepped forward swiftly, slipping her arm through Robert Maxwell’s. “Robert, we are paired for the meal. Will you escort me?”

  He gave Jassy a quick look of pained regret with a promise of a future meeting, then he turned with all his charm to Lenore. “It is always my greatest pleasure to be at your side.”

  They began to file from the entryway to the dining room, through great double doors. Thrilled with Robert’s response to her, Jassy felt as if she walked on clouds.

  Then she was dragged back to earth by a vise upon her elbow.

  Jamie Cameron held her.

  “What do you want?” she demanded sharply.

  “Merely to view this creation of mine,” he replied. She did not want to make a scene, and so she stood impatiently still, feeling the heat rise in her again as his sharp eyes raked over her from head to toe.

  “I am not your creation.”

  “Ah, but you are.”

  “Stop it. Stop looking at me as if you know what lies beneath my clothes.”

  “Ah,” he murmured softly, “but I do know what lies there. I have a wonderfully clear memory of it all.”

  “You are hateful, and far from gallant.”

  “And you may wear ribbons and gold thread and all the adornment that you please, and you shall still be the gold-digging little thief I carried away from the tavern.”

  “Carried away! Your creation! You are an insolent son of a bitch!”

  “And there comes the tongue of the tavern wench.”

  She jerked hard upon her elbow; he did not let go. He touched her hair instead, smoothing back a strand. Seething, she gritted her teeth and prayed that he would release her soon. She smiled. “Well, then, my Lord Cameron, what is your opinion of the adornment? Shall I suffice to grace this hallowed hall?”

  His dark eyes met hers. “The adornment is wonderful. You are quite beautiful, and you know it well. But I do suggest that you take care. You are giving yourself airs, and no one here has forgotten the fact that you are the child born on the wrong side of the sheets. Don’t fool yourself. It matters.”

  “I shall do my best to remember your warnings!”

  This time when she jerked upon her elbow, he released her. With a toss of her head and a flounce of her skirts, she hurried on into the dining room.

  Her place was in the middle of the table. The duchess sat at one end of the long table, and the duke sat at the other. To Jassy’s annoyance, Robert was across the table from her, while Jamie was seated to her right. He smiled apologetically as he drew out his chair. She ignored him. She concentrated instead on the beauty of the table, and of the night. Not a month ago she was a wretched servant carrying tankards of ale to lascivious louts. Now she sat here, sipping fine wine from crystal, dining with a silver fork, on a table covered in white linen and lace. She would not let Jamie Cameron ruin it all.

  The meal began with a toast to the duchess, in honor of the child she would soon bear the duke. Jassy was as enthusiastic as the others as she raised her glass to Jane, for she had become very fond of the no-nonsense woman.

  Then she watched as Jamie rose and kissed her, and a little knot began to form in her stomach, for then the duke rose, too, and she saw the deep affection that passed between them all. The duke’s fingers fell over Jane’s shoulders with tenderness, and much love was apparent in his gaze. How very sweet it seemed. In those moments Jassy envied Lady Jane with a deep and startling anguish. That was what she wanted. The knowledge that she was needed, that she was loved and cherished.

  She bit her lip and stared at her plate, and then she raised her chin again. She would have Robert. She would win him and she would love him, and he would cherish her with tenderness, as she had just witnessed. And he would make her mistress of her own home.

  Conversation went on to the May Day ball, with Lenore enthusiastically leading it, and Robert joining in. Lenore charmed Robert and then swept Jamie with the radiance of her warmth and smile too. She pretended to draw Jassy into her circle, for not to do so would have appeared rude. Yet Jassy occasionally felt her sister’s gaze, and thought there did not seem to be hatred behind it. There was an assurance, as if she had a card to play which Jassy knew nothing about. Perhaps she did. Jassy couldn’t really care.

  Then Jamie no longer discussed details with them, for Henry had drawn him into a discussion on the Jamestown colony in the New World. Jassy had little interest in such a faraway and savage land. She ignored his bronze hand when it brushed hers, and she ignored the heat of his body, so close to her own. She listened while Lenore described the Maypole, and how someone was always Queen of the May, and how there was a table set for the servants, and one for the gentry and nobility. She paused and smiled, and Jassy was sure that Lenore was thinking that Jassy would definitely sit with the servants on that day. “But the meal, of course, comes after the dance of the May.” She giggled and cast Robert a flirtatious glance. “It’s all in costume, of course, but single maidens may
seek out their true love, and if they can hold him until the music ends, then he must marry her.”

  “Is it legal?”

  “Oh, of course not! But it is terribly romantic. Even among the poorer folk, marriage is a matter of grave concern. And when it comes to men and women of family, well, of course, there are grave details to be worked out. Dowries and contracts and the like. But I tell you, many a free maid has made her choice, and it has been honored through such play! Why, any man is honor-bound to offer the maid marriage, you see.”

  Honor-bound. Robert Maxwell was a most honorable young man. Jassy still could not tell if Lenore would seek out Robert or Jamie when the time came. She hoped that Lenore would seek Jamie. The two of them deserved each other, in Jassy’s opinion.

  “No, Henry, I think that you are wrong,” Jamie said emphatically at her side, interrupting her dreams of things to come. “The first charter given to the Company in 1606 left a nebulous question of authority—the king and his council held much power, and they were across an ocean, too far away. There have been many new charters since.”

  “Governors have come and gone, and the Company fares no better,” Henry said. His liveried servants moved about the room in practiced silence as he spoke, offering up the various platters of food prepared for the meal. A plate of fish beautifully molded to resemble a swimming flounder came Jassy’s way, then a plate of parsley-sprigged lamb, and a kidney pie, and then a serving platter with a cooked pheasant, feathers surrounding the body upon the tray. It was all delicious, and Jassy gave but scant attention to the conversation as she concentrated upon the food. Sometimes it was difficult to remember that she was not starving anymore, and that she had far more than thin soup and watery gruel to fill her stomach these days.

  “I beg to differ,” Jamie told Henry, drawing Jassy’s attention once again. “Matters have improved. The Indians and the white men are at peace. Men are learning to grow food, as well as tobacco. And there are many women in the colony now, and on the various hundreds surrounding it. And my land is an individual grant from the king. I am the authority upon it.”

  “I doubt not that you will grow rich on tobacco, Jamie,” Henry agreed, “for what you touch turns to gold. But must you spend so much time in such a heathen land?”

  “Especially when you have just built such a stunning new manor here!” Lenore said.

  Jassy quickly looked over at her sister. Lenore’s eyes were warm and sparkling, and they stayed upon Jamie as she smiled deeply. “It is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen, Jamie. That you keep wandering away is a crime. It is a palace.”

  “It is not a palace, Lenore.”

  “It is grander than many a royal residence,” Henry said wryly. “And still you travel on to the heathen wilderness. What is the draw?”

  Jamie shrugged. “The very wilderness, I suppose. There is a pagan beauty there, raw and untamed. I am fascinated by the spirit of it. I would fight the elements, I suppose, and by God, I would win.”

  “And what if you lose?” Jassy asked, challenging him.

  His dark indigo gaze fell to her. “I do not lose, Miss Dupré. Ever. What I set out to do is done, and what I wish to acquire is mine.”

  “Not every time, surely.”

  “Surely, yes, but it is so.”

  “There will come a time when it is not so.”

  He was no longer looking at her, but he stared across the table at Lenore, who returned his gaze. “I do not think I need to worry,” he said simply. Lenore flushed, her lips parted slightly, and she seemed entranced. It seemed that Jamie had decided on her, and that in the end, no matter how she teased and pouted and tormented, Lenore would have him. It would be just as he had said—he would have what he wanted.

  Robert laughed. “That is Jamie. He must win, and he will have that which he chooses.”

  “I should much rather talk about the dance than a heathen land,” Lenore said, and shivered. “The talk of those Indians—”

  “Oh, but the stories about John Smith and Pocahontas were so wonderful! She befriended our people then, and married Mr. John Rolfe, and so the colony survived. That is wondrous.”

  “Wondrous! Why, the pagans slice hair and flesh from men’s heads!” Jane said. “The wars have been dreadful. Jamie can tell you. He fought the Indians there.”

  “They paint their bodies in hideous designs!” Lenore said.

  “They paint their bodies in beautiful designs,” Jamie said, “and the wars have been over for a long time now. When British colonists were starving in 1609, it was the Indians who fed them.”

  “Why, Jamie, I think that you actually admire those red devils,” Lenore admonished.

  “I do. Many of them. They have a sense of honor, and though many of their values differ greatly from our own, many are the same. They love their children as we love our own. They revere a man who is honest and trustworthy, and they will fight to defend what is theirs. Powhatan was a very great chief, and Pocahontas was a lady I considered myself privileged to know.”

  “I do suppose she was fascinating,” Lenore said politely. “But not nearly so fascinating as your lovely new manor.”

  Elizabeth trembled suddenly at Jassy’s side. “I should hate it! I should just hate the new land. It is damp, with mosquitoes and pests. And the Indians are hideous beasts, no matter what you say, Jamie. I have read about the Lost Colony, and Sir Walter Raleigh, and the poor, poor infant, Virginia Dare. The Indians carried them off and killed them, and perhaps even ate them! It is a dreadful new world.”

  “Elizabeth,” Jamie said gently, “it is not a dreadful world, I promise. There are acres and acres for cattle to graze, acres where deer roam in plenty and where there is an endless supply of pheasant. Sometime, little one, you must come with me. You will see. But enough for now, if we distress you. Who will you come as to the ball? A Greek maiden? Helen of Troy? A fairy-tale princess, perhaps?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Why, I shall not dress at all. I do not wish to capture a husband!”

  They all laughed. Then Robert stared across the table at Jassy.

  “And who, Miss Dupré, shall you come as?”

  Caught unaware, Jassy hesitated. Henry spoke up sharply for her. “Jassy will not attend this year. She is too new to this house and needs time to adjust before indulging in such games.”

  Jassy felt as if an ocean of icy water had been cast over her dreams. She had to go to the ball!

  Perhaps her disappointment was betrayed in her face, for Jane spoke quickly, saying that as the meal was completed, they should move into the solar, for she had hired a puppeteer to entertain them for the night.

  As Jassy blindly rose, trying to swallow down her rage and disappointment, a warm breath touched her nape, and she heard Jamie Cameron’s whisper. “Don’t be too distressed. Occasions such as the ball are purely for show and mean little. Alas, you shall have to capture a rich husband elsewhere.”

  She managed to discreetly cast her elbow into him but knew little satisfaction, for he barely seemed to note the intended torment. He caught her elbow to lead her from the room. “Please don’t fret. I shan’t attend the ball, either. I find such charades far more savage than the practices of the North American Indians.”

  “A pity!” Jassy snapped in return. “You’ve come to plan an event in which you’ll not participate?”

  “It is the responsibility of the Dukes of Somerfield and Carlyle. I merely represent my father.”

  “I’m sure that Lenore shall be heartily disappointed. What, then, have you no interest in marriage? Why, Lenore is there, milord, quite for the taking.”

  “Ah, but there is Robert to consider.”

  “Do you really consider any man or woman in your quest for what you desire, my Lord Cameron?”

  “But I don’t know quite what I desire,” he said. “Marriage is a most serious step. A wife must not only be winsome to the eye but a capable lass.”

  “Capable? Why, Lord Cameron, you need but a sh
owpiece, or so it seems. Someone to grace your illustrious mansion, to give you illustrious children, and serve wine and comfits—illustriously, of course. Why, Lenore should charmingly fit such a bill of needs.”

  “You underestimate what I seek in a mate, Miss Dupré,” he told her, and bowed, releasing her arm.

  He moved to Lenore’s side then, whispering something in her ear. Lenore laughed delightedly, turned to him, and set her elegant hand upon the frilled lace that spilled over his doublet at his chest. He seemed very tall and dark then, as striking as a prince, and Lenore, with her blond beauty, looked well with him. She sighed softly and trembled, and Jassy thought that her sister wasn’t at all immune to the oft-aloof charm of Lord Cameron.

  Robert was engaged in conversation with Elizabeth, and Elizabeth was laughing happily. The duke was bowed over his duchess as the puppet master prepared his show. Jassy suddenly felt very much alone—very much the bastard child, the poor, unwanted relation from the wrong side of the sheets. Her temple thundered with a sudden pain, and she hated Henry with all the venom she could muster. He could not stop her! She would go to the ball, and she would marry well. She would not know poverty again, but she would leave this hall where she was so unwelcome and become mistress of her own destiny.

  None of them noticed her, and no matter how brave her imaginings, she was, at the moment, unnoticed, unneeded. She turned around and fled, leaving the solar, running on Elizabeth’s soft satin slippers out through the dining room and the back of the house toward the stables beyond. Her way was well lit, for there was a full moon, and stars dotted the sky, and the house was well supplied with lanterns for the evening, as were the stables. There she raced along the length of stall until she found Mary, the poor little mare with the faulty bloodline, and slid beside her. She patted the animal’s velvet nose and crooned to her softly.

  “I care not that your pedigree is weak, my dear, for your heart is very valiant, and you are faithful and good and true. Wherever I go, I promise that I will see to you! They will not cast you out for not being a good worker, or a beautiful horse for the hunt, or a great breeding mare. I swear, I shall bring you with me wherever I shall go.” She hesitated. “And I shall pay that bastard for you first, so that you will truly be mine.”